River's Attic - Jessie's Poems.
| Author | Message |
|---|---|
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I really fail at sounding wise and specific in comments. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou Nab, I'm so glad that you still take the time to read <3 He was a Friend of Mine. He was a friend of mine, When we was young and hopeful, Back in ’63 when his eyes Were bluer than the sky above, Pierced by the mountain tops, That shined with distant summer snow. We weren’t paid enough for the herd we kept High up there in the Rocky’s, Where the days were warm and close, And the nights frosted the bluebells. But while the sun shone bright, The waters glittered like the midnight sky And all around was the glow of peace And love. All around was the dragonflies, Who lived short, and freer than the birds. All around the honey bees danced With careless, heated ecstasy, Until, Vengeful and bitter, The winter came upon us. His eyes darkened with the skies That thundered and howled with loneliness, Echoing over desolate snow plains And long, forgotten highways. Still through twenty southern summers, He was a friend of mine. Until a last, violent winter crawled between us, And left him bleeding and cold in the fields. They burned up his bones, and bottled his soul, So I told his parents, and his wife, That I was a friend of his, and knew a place, Just right. Where the colour of the sky, Mirrored the blue of his eyes. Where the summer sits eternal Above the snow of the mountaintops. A place that glowed with peace, And Love. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Funeral Bells. The funeral bells echoed, Slow, like distant gun fire. The wind disturbed the corn fields, Arching golden stalks, Until all is leveled. Until all around mourned. My grandmother wept. The silk of her dress, swelled And flourished, like violent seas. She talked and whispered at the graveside, Of how she missed his smile, His face, his old familiar skin. She wept for her husband, As my mother wept for her father. My silence filled the grave, Spilled around our feet. Eyes blank, glassy in the sunlight, Weeping only for the southern shores. For where else am I to weep for you? What have I of your smile, or your face? What have I of your old, familiar skin? What have I of your bones? Stolen by the crows that linger, Deathly, in the jagged French skies. Mauled by the vermin, infested, with foreign disease. Contaminated with fear frozen in your awkward eyes, Wide and screaming through the longest of sleeps. Bereft of your rest, robbed of your peace. Not lowered, but sucked and sunken into the ground. No dirt to bid you goodbye, but reddened mud, To smother you, my dear – At which graveside do I stand? |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | Funeral Bells. So fucking beautiful. Srsly, I'm making heart eyes over it. I'm so envious of how you're able to capture emotion and visuals and make it look so effortless. That ending blew me away, I think this is one of my ultimate favorites from you. <3 |
| souverian. Demolition Lover  Age: - Gender: - Posts: 19169 | Like crimes in the mosh said, your ability to capture emotions is brilliant and leaves one envious. Whether it be emotions of melancholy or joy, you portray them to the point where the reader understands. Funeral Bells is lovely. |
| mick_st_john Killjoy  Age: - Gender: - Posts: 16 | your poems are really good the first one you posted somehow reminded me of vampires...  |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou all very much : ) |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Parasites. The house is small and cold, The darkness of the corners breathes, And claws further into open space. Thin whispering darkness That echoes little of the smiling past, But chatters with the last days Of pale awakening and heavy, Leaden sleep. Once new and proud of its novelty, The conventional shapes and spaces, The sweepings of beige and laminate, Seem alien and unfathomable. The wide screen television, Acquired to aid only his dyeing sight, Sits awkward and imposing, Useless in the corner. You dream alone as death sighs, Fresh and resonant in the walls, And in the fibres of the mattress. You dream of the old house, Where the rooms were damp and musty, But knew nothing of the old sorrow That infests the stale air, Hanging parasitic from the ceilings. You sleep now, long and silent, Fearful of disturbing cancerous remains That cling to his belongings, Littering the floors and the table tops. And in your even, surrendering breath, You seem to welcome some other, Eternal sleep, beckoned by his image, Behind heavy, sunken lids. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart  Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | I loved Funeral Bells. That was a truly amazing work. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou very much : ). Death. Awaking on the high road out of town, Above the roof tops and the street lights, Which yawn in glowing death, The 80’s seem to spiral in metallic unrest. The Virginia sun sits lazy in the dusty skies Trickling through the autumn canopies Like ancient blood from ever-healing stab wounds. Static in the air, murdered by the sharp notes Of an electric piano, the sound clattering Onto the glistening tarmac that runs, Regardless of tired nature and its silent futility. Runs into the hills that border the outskirts of town. You are young and your blue eyes are bright, Not as stars, but as the fearful glint of lighthouses, Engulfed in swelling storms that sour the aqua waters. Quixotic and afraid you live, baffled by God And nightmares which force you to the hills, Where the world stands still and silence, is king. They force you to the doorways of the elderly, Whose colourless eyes sooth the storm clouds, That bellow in your heart, young yet lacking in youth. From a lost search you awake on the high road out of town, Plagued by schizophrenic desire for peace, And a paralysing fear of a lonesome death, Bereft of the knowledge of God. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I feel terrible for not commenting lately, especially since you've been nice enough to do so for my updates, but I assure you that I've read and loved it every time you posted a new poem. You have a way of describing and piecing together imagery like no one else I know; and it’s far beyond what people your age – or our age, I like to think of ourselves as basically the same age, haha – would normally write. It’s full of shrewd, intelligent sketches of the thoughts that are in that, no doubt genius brain of yours. I say sketches ‘cause when I read your poems, I feel like I’m looking at a really beautiful painting; though not just looking, but reading into it and its significance and the story behind it. You can write a descriptive piece in its entirety, completely lacking in specific meaning, and there’d still be some dimension worth mentioning. "They force you to the doorways of the elderly, Whose colourless eyes sooth the storm clouds, That bellow in your heart, young yet lacking in youth." Brilliant. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou, so very much Nab : ) |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Love or War. The clouds breathe with the mountain tops. Silver streams shine as veins through the green and purple, As the sun dapples shadows, Cowering behind peaks that sleep, Like giants behind the mist. Cars weave a maze of foreign tarmac Like mice, nervous in the vastness. And away into the deep distance, Roll the hills, bellowing like swollen pride, unmoveable, And older than love or war, When all was fair And the great mother in the skies awoke to a clear, Golden dawn of blinding light, Great piercing light, In which little mice, Dare not weave their mazes. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Gold Leaf. A single Ferris wheel glows neon, Deserted in the cold, august night. You stare past crowds that linger and sway, Struggling to find a fitting metaphor For the way they stare and bawl at you. For how much you miss your home. Lonely horses and wild men, Churches that sleep in the quiet of the fields. They wouldn’t guess that inside, Your heart gently breaks, Splinters into shards of blue That stab at your lungs And sever your veins. Bared teeth and tight eyes For strangers who lie ignorant of the beast, That turns and rolls in your blood. Your brothers watch you in a way, That sets your finger nails scratching. All full of obnoxious love for you And your drunken eyes That search foreign horizons for some secret, Elusive happiness. With mindful eyes they gaze, As you curl the east coast of your lips into a cruel smile And clench your fists until your palms burn like forest fires, Uncontrollable in a dry dawn. They ask you of what it is you seek so wildly, And you ask them if they remember what life was like when you were boys, When your father nailed crosses to your bedroom doors. You ask them of God. They stare at their shoes, Fingering gold leafed crosses. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I still read all your updates. And I still love and enjoy every single word you write. I wish I could play with description the way you do. It's brilliant. But you know all this already. Or at least, you should. (x |
| Zombie Gurl Killjoy Age: 29 Gender: Female Posts: 25 | You are amazing! I think the best line you wrote was "And sing your heart away, Sing it; sing it right away into the sky So God can here all you have to say to him Tell him you need something Tell him to help you out a little " Beautiful! |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou both very much : ) New peice, about the miners strike in the North of England in the 1980's. For those who aren't from England "bairn" is a term used in some northern dialects to refer to a baby or child : ) Christmas I run to the top of our street, Past matchbox houses dusted with winter snow, Past fences of corrugated iron, That shiver in the December breeze. From the hill, the great ashen sea seems frozen, Silent as the tarmac beneath my boots. Durham twinkles feebly below, The far off suburbs littered with flickering Technicolour lights. Over the quiet murmur of the city, The thick, northern drone of the miners can be heard, A heavy rendition of Silent Night Seeping under doors decked with balding tinsel, Reverberating under pitiless stars. Suddenly the creak of the fence panels Turns to a piercing clatter As our Michael tears through the back gate And marches with dark eyes Towards the sound of the carols And the haunted solace of the local men’s club. I flinch with the cold and the movement of splintering wood As Lesley across the street throws the window up in its rotting frame And shoves her head under the smoky yellow of the net curtain, “I know it’s cold indoors like, But still a bit nippy out ‘ere for a skinny little bairn like you!” She chirps. I think of dad sitting by the mutilated bits of furniture, Throwing them onto the fire, That breathes and dies with each draft That sweeps under the doors, Shameful tears escaping from his eyes, Salting his turkey, tensed in desperate anger As I sit quietly beneath the browning tree. I pull my collar up from beneath my jumper, And tug my sleeves over my hands. A siren sounds in the streets below, Flashing down the sullen alleyways While two policemen beat their batons on the bricks. “Be alright Les.” I reply, without turning, Still watching below as the ringing sound of the batons, Gives way to the muffled hammering Of thick metal on a denim clad back, And the thump of the police van doors. The North Sea begins to stir, And a sharp breeze lashes tears across my face. In the distance the songs of the miners fade. I turn my back on the faltering lights of the town, And descend slowly back into the darkness of our street. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | A Visit. I stand alone beneath the sky Marbled with heavy clouds That spit sheets of thin, Smothering rain on the earth below. The church yard lies silent, The air disturbed only by the icy shadows of my breath And the sporadic, gentle plummet Of the fiery October leaves Anticipating the fall of the hour When the bells bellow, God-like Over the graves below. I emerge from the shadow of the church And head slowly beneath the trees To her solemn plot, Threatened by the wayward growth of the balding hedges. I stand before the desolate patch of earth And as I watch the invading grasses shiver in the breeze, I am caught by a great, Flourishing sadness As into one solitary, forgotten stone, Pours a technicolour of memories, lost In the hazy twilight between life and death. Soft white curls spoke nothing of the tongue, Sharp as lashing razors that sat behind thin lips. But still the tinted silver of her eyes shone, With the last memories of when they were blue and bright. Her son still young and adoring, Her daughter, forever fair. The rain patters feebly on the stone Engraved in white and gold, As I arrange the scarlet flowers, With the fear of a dim loneliness, Hanging heavy on my heart. But in the distance, sounds a muffled, pulsating thump Almost as the echo of a thousand beating hearts. I step back and observe the foreign colour Gathered before her name And without warning, A robin flutters to the top of the stone, And a protective, inquisitive stare Comes from deep eyes, full of rest, And quiet. In the autumn trees the birds begin to call, And the rain thins in the air. I watch as the robin settles, And turn to leave her, alone In the company of the countryside. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Forget 'A Visit.' After another visit I realised there's not much more than this I wanted to say. Flowers. As I arrange the flowers, All white and scarlet before the marble, The sun begins to shine With calming pathetic fallacy, Like an acknowledgment from God, Or a thank you, From Loneliness. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I love it. I love you. x) |
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